


Modern Love

by nekojita



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AFTG Exchange, Andrew tries really hard, Andrew's not having a good day, Bee's there for Andrew as always, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Sir and King - Freeform, Valentine's Day Fic Exchange, but it ends well, life with cats, proposal, the Foxes are just mentioned here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 07:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17824838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekojita/pseuds/nekojita
Summary: Andrew Minyard has never believed in the concept of marriage... but he never thought he'd be in a relationship with a pipe-dream known as Neil Josten, either, one spanning several years and thousands of miles. So why does it figure when he finally decides to take a step toward some sort of permanence between the two of them, nothing goes right?*******AFTG Exchange Valentine's fic for IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos





	Modern Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos/gifts).



> This is the Valentine's Day fic from the AFTG Exchange for IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos based on the prompt of 'good proposal'. I hope it's acceptable and not too terrible.   
> *******

*******

Andrew had been honest all the times when he’d said that marriage wasn’t something he believed in, that it was a waste of time and money to follow some stupid convention that didn’t _mean_ anything. The damn thing had been created as a way for men to lay claim to wealth and property and foolishly believe that they could control bloodlines, and had no bearing on if people were actually _devoted_ to each other.

Just a legal contract that could be declared null and void with a bit of effort (more or less, depending on prenups and where you lived).

“Then why do you seem a little less certain of that rant this time?” Bee asked during their weekly call. “Is that a bit of doubt I’m hearing?”

He felt an urge to grab a piece of red licorice to chew on but resisted since he was talking, and mentally cursed his decision to cut back on smoking for the eighth time that day. “I still believe that the reasons why marriage came into existence are ridiculous and for the most part demeaning… but there’s something to be said for permanence.”

Bee was quiet for a couple of seconds before she picked up on what he _wasn’t_ saying, insightful as always. “This is about Neil, isn’t it?” Warmth flooded her voice and he imagined that her eyes sparkled behind the large lenses of her glasses as she leaned forward in her chair, something she always did when she was excited. “Andrew, are you thinking of making some sort of commitment with him? Something formal?”

“What ‘commitment’?” Andrew drawled, and continued on before Bee could complain. “He’s on the lease of my apartment, and Davidson’s contract is up at the end of the season, right when Neil will be a free agent. Roger’s already got people working on the offer for the idiot, who’s started boxing up his apartment so he can move here as soon as the season is over – him and the other furball we have joint custody of, since Sir wasn’t enough for him.” As he spoke, furball #1 came over and rubbed against his left shin in a demand for attention. “For a ‘nothing’, I can’t seem to get rid of him.”

Bee chuckled at that. “Yet you sound ready to do more than have him move in full-time and join your team at last. What’s going on? What brought this on?”

Andrew paused to collect his thoughts while he reached down to give a couple of gentle scratches to the top of Sir’s head; he knew that for Neil, the most important thing was that they would once again be living together, that in a couple of months there wouldn’t be any more distance between then, no more days or even weeks before they’d see each other. Hell, the junkie was ecstatic over the idea of them playing on the same team again once Andrew’s coach went through with sending off the offer of starting striker, of the rumors about them making Court (well, Neil being offered Court and Andrew not turning it down this time).

The occasional too-long stretch away from each other aside, things were _fine_ between them, and soon even that would come to an end. So why was he contemplating something he’d swore he’d never do after standing at his brother’s side when Aaron had married Katelyn, after watching Nicky marry Erik? After listening to the idiot Foxes make their idiotic comments about him and Neil being next?

“Because… because I don’t have to,” he tried to explain to Bee. “Because Neil certainly doesn’t expect it of me and he’d never ask for it, never need it to define what we have… but it’s a symbol, isn’t it?” Andrew wasn’t doing it for some stupid ceremony or to make their friends happy, but as another way to tell Neil that _this_ was their home and to _stay_.

He’d given Neil a key and told him to leave Nathaniel behind in Baltimore, but now? When they were officially starting something new together, were finally under one roof and on the same team? For some reason Andrew thought that it deserved some sort of recognition, and that was a _promise_.

That was what ‘marriage’ meant to him in the end – an oath, plain and simple.

“Andrew….” For some reason Bee’s voice was all choked up. “Yes, you’re right, it’s a very important symbol, something people forget as they get caught up in celebrating the event. Of course you’d focus on the meaning and its importance, which is why I’m so happy for you, you and Neil. I think you’re both ready for this, and I’m very happy for you.”

He clicked his tongue at her odd behavior. “It’s just me promising to be stuck with the fool junkie until I can come up with a good enough murder plot to get to ‘til death do us part’.” When Sir meowed for more attention, he clicked his tongue again. “Oh, and make sure that Neil signs a will leaving the damn furballs to Nicky or Matt.”

Bee laughed for a couple of seconds. “Right, keep telling yourself that, mister. I see that next week we’ll be working on your terrible grip on reality, after you fill me in on Neil’s reaction to the proposal.” She hummed for a moment while Andrew placated Sir to make him shut up. “Will you be proposing to Neil this weekend? Or will it be another visit?”

“This weekend.” He wanted to get it out of the way as soon as possible – not because he thought that Neil would say ‘no’, but because he’d rather spend future weekends with his boyfriend on more normal things.

As if picking up on that Andrew was done with the subject, Bee talked about how Andrew was dealing with his teammates (a bit better now that assholes like Davidson were soon moving on to new teams) and the pressures of heading into the playoffs. They finished by debating the merits of the book they were reading, and then it was time for Bee to wrap things up for the night while Andrew fed Sir before grabbing something to eat for dinner.

He face-timed with Neil while he ate, since the idiot kept to later hours than Bee and had some social thing with his own team earlier that evening, and hated how seeing Neil’s bright eyes and slight smile put him at ease even more than the call with Bee. For once, Neil didn’t spend much time talking about Exy (just a little going over practice and to confirm that his agent had mentioned talking about him transferring to the Miners), then rambled on about how King adored the latest cat bed he’d gotten her (in part to assuage the guilt he felt whenever he left town for the weekend).

Andrew let him prattle on about the furball while he finished his pasta, then changed the topic to when Neil’s flight would arrive that Friday (as if he didn’t have the details already memorized) and their plans for the weekend (leave the apartment as little as possible, watch a movie, just be near each other).

Thursday was spent getting everything ready for the weekend; Andrew picked up the ring – a simple platinum band with the words ‘stay’ engraved inside in English, Russian and German) – as well as enough groceries to ensure that they wouldn’t have to leave the apartment for anything unless they wanted to, and did some cleaning to help make the evening go by quickly.

Friday was an abbreviated practice session and brief interviews before the team had the weekend off, a break before they’d spend the next several days traveling for away games. Andrew had to put up with the usual stupid questions asking about why he’d turned down Court, if he was afraid of facing off against Kevin and the Sirens in the playoff season, and if he looked forward to shutting out Neil Josten during their games.

Tired of the same old shit as well as people trying to create some sort of rivalry between him and his former teammates – especially Neil, the mouthy little bastard – Andrew barely said anything, which didn’t endear him to his coach and the team’s publicists. Which meant he got yet another lecture about being a ‘team player’ and ‘putting in the right amount of effort’ and a bunch of other shit he’d usually ignore if it weren’t for the fact that he still needed Neil’s transfer to be signed off on.

The damn junkie better appreciate things.

By the time the lectures were done and he got to his car, there was a message from Neil about his flight being delayed, some sort of issue with the connecting plane having mechanical problems. Not something that Andrew wanted to be told right then, when he was already annoyed and anxious, but there wasn’t much he could do about it (another damn reason to hate flying and to want Neil in Denver full-time).

Now he had to wait almost three more hours for Neil to arrive, to find out ‘yes or no’ in regards to a question which would have a huge impact on their lives moving forward.

_Dammit._

Mood sour and muscles tense, Andrew unlocked the door to his apartment and planned on having a rare cigarette and a glass of whiskey out on the balcony in an effort to calm down… only to walk into his living room which appeared to be a double for a scene out of a horror film due to the streaks and splatters of blood everywhere. “The fuck?”

Sir let out a plaintive mew as the plump, fluffy orange tabby darted out from beneath the coffee table, his left back paw leaving bloody paw prints with each step. Andrew stood still for a couple of seconds before he grabbed an old jacket (Neil’s) hanging near the door and wrapped up the cat so he could sit down and examine _why_ Sir was bleeding.

One of the damn furball’s back claws must have gotten caught on something and was mostly torn off, and when Andrew couldn’t get the bleeding to stop after several minutes, he threw the cat, still wrapped up in Neil’s old grey coat (no big loss there), in the cat carrier and headed off to the nearest emergency vet.

He texted Neil about the whole mess while waiting for a vet to see them (by that point, the idiot was about to board), and twenty minutes later, a woman in her fifties who reminded Andrew of Bee but looked like an older version of Dan Wilds tended to Sir. Despite the damn furball’s trauma, she was able to remove the damaged claw without much fuss and stop the bleeding.

“You should keep the claws trimmed to prevent this from happening,” she told Andrew with a stern look as she bandaged Sir’s paw. “He’ll need some antibiotics for a few days just in case, and you’ll have to keep an eye on the injury. We’ll print out instructions for you and provide you with everything you’ll need, including a cone collar in case he tries to lick or chew on the injured area.”

Andrew gave Sir a narrow-eyed look for all the trouble the damn furball had caused even as he gave him a gentle rub behind his ears; it was a good thing that Neil would be there for the next couple of days, and that Vanessa, the next-door neighbor who looked after Sir while Andrew was out of town, had cats of her own and so should be able to handle the slight injury. If not? Neil would probably insist on taking Sir back with him to Boston until he returned for his next visit.

Before Andrew left to pay for everything, he had the vet go over the best way for him to trim Sir’s claws (a task he usually left for Neil to do, hence why Sir’s claws were so long), then went to grab what he’d need to take care of the furball. Once Sir was given a couple of treats (and pilled) then tucked into his bed, Andrew set about cleaning up the mess.

Several years of living with Neil Josten had given him plenty of experience at cleaning up blood stains, go figure.

He was so busy cleaning things (the carpet, the floors, the furniture, the walls, the cabinets) that he didn’t realize the exact time until his stomach rumbled and he looked up to notice the time displayed on the cable box then began to swear; Neil’s flight had arrived over half an hour ago. He stumbled over to his phone to find that he hadn’t turned up the volume after leaving the vets and that somehow, he’d messed up the alarm to remind him to head to the airport after Neil’s flight had changed, then missed his boyfriend’s texts that he’d arrived in Denver and then got an uber when he realized that Andrew wasn’t there to pick him up (along with several worried messages asking if Andrew was all right). Halfway out the door, Andrew stopped and replied back that he was ‘fine’ but that he’d been busy and missed Neil’s messages.

_Fuck._

There wasn’t anything to do but finish cleaning (and give a whining Sir something to eat, even if it was the furry bastard’s fault, him abandoning Neil like that). Andrew was about to start dinner for him and Neil when the front door of the apartment opened, followed by a loud, tired groan.

“How’s my baby?” Neil called out as something hit the floor.

Sir meowed and scrambled (hampered by the bandage on his back paw) toward the living room; Andrew closed the fridge and sauntered after the damn furball in time to see Neil, dressed in dark sweats with the hood still pulled over his head, bend down to pick up the mewling cat.

“Oh, are you hurt? Were you afraid? Poor baby, is it better now?” Neil cooed to the dumb furball in his arms while Sir purred loud enough to be heard across the room and headbutted his chin. He shifted Sir to drape over his right shoulder and gave Andrew a smile in greeting. “Hey, you.”

Nice to see that he rated a greeting behind the damn cat. “What a shame, your plane didn’t crash.”

“Hmm, yeah, I know, too bad they caught that faulty part,” Neil told him with a grin. “Better luck next time.” He bridged the space between them and arched an eyebrow in a clear invitation for a kiss.

Oh, why not, Andrew figured as he rocked up a little on his toes; he kept it brief since Neil appeared tired and was still holding on to Sir.

“So, how was your day?” Neil asked once Andrew pulled away.

“Seriously?” Andrew gave him a narrow look before turning around to go back to the kitchen.

“Okay, the whole thing with Sir aside,” Neil amended as he set the cat down then groaned. “Oh, I can’t wait to shower and crash tonight.”

Andrew frowned upon hearing that. “Rough flight?”

“Rough _day_ ,” Neil explained as he reached into the fridge for a bottle of water. “Coach insisted that we got a new drill down before she’d let us leave for the weekend, and Taylor kept fucking up the footwork.” He rolled his eyes to show what he thought of his fellow striker. “I barely got to the airport on time, only for the whole mess with the connecting flight, and they shoved us all on a smaller plane.” His expression turned sheepish as he removed the seal on the bottle’s lid. “There was this guy who was flying out here for a family emergency who was barely holding it together since he got the call about his brother, so I ended up switching seats with him, which meant I was crammed back in economy with some moron who didn’t understand personal space.”

If it were anyone but Neil (well, Neil or Renee), Andrew would ask if he was certain that the other passenger’s story was real, but Neil could spot a con artist from a mile away (it took one to know one, after all). It amazed Andrew how Neil could tear into people he considered idiots or wastes of his time, yet could inconvenience himself for a stranger like that.

Especially when it came to giving up a first-class seat on an airplane.

After all of that, Neil had gotten off the plane to not find Andrew waiting for him and had to make his own way to their home; it wasn’t that he couldn’t do such a thing, it was that… _dammit_.

“It’ll take a little while for dinner,” Andrew told him as he went to pull out the ingredients he’d need to cook something to eat; he should still be able to make the shrimp fettucine that night.

“Aw, it’s getting late so why don’t we just order in?” Neil argued as he pulled off his hooded sweatshirt. “I’m fine with something quick like Mexican, so maybe some tacos? That’ll give me a chance to take a shower while it’s being delivered.”

Andrew paused in setting the shrimp and cream on the counter and just stared for several seconds before he forced himself to shrug; how was he going to argue with that? ‘No, I specifically want to have a nice dinner with you because I plan to propose afterwards?’. “Fine. Chicken and lamb?”

“Yeah, and the chorizo and cheese empanadas, too.” Neil paused on his way to the bathroom for another kiss, a deeper, more lingering one than before. “Sorry, but we’ll do the nice dinner tomorrow and I’ll help, okay? Just want to relax with you tonight before I crash.”

Again, how could Andrew argue with that? All he could do was nod once and watch Neil walk away, the perfect pipe-dream who had somehow proven true despite all expectations, who had kept all his promises, who showed up weekend after weekend even after they’d graduated and technically gone their separate ways.

Neil, who just wanted to spend a quiet night with Andrew after a rough day, who wanted to help him with a meal that Andrew intended to make special for _him_. Because Neil always strove for balance in their relationship, because Neil never took him for granted, never expected Andrew to give without him giving in return.

The ring in pocket of his jeans burned into his right thigh as if molten metal.

All _Andrew_ had wanted for the day was for Neil to come to the home they legally shared, that they soon would formally share, and have a nice dinner together before Andrew could ask him ‘yes or no’. Except it had been an exhausting day for both of them, the apartment reeked of cleaning products, Neil was tired from his delayed flights (and had arrived without Andrew there to pick him up), and dinner was ruined along with everything else.

Andrew mulled over how everything had gone wrong as he ordered dinner for them then put away the ingredients for what would probably be their meal for tomorrow, then lit some candles that Renee had sent him to try to make the apartment reek less of ammonia. Sir curled up on the couch (he tried to lick his back paw once then stopped when Andrew waved the cone collar at him), and the food arrived before Neil finished his shower (a sure sign of how tired he was – how long it lasted).

Neil gave Andrew a grateful smile when he came out to find the food spread out on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

“It’s just take-out.”

“Yeah, but… I’m sorry if I ruined anything.” Sometimes Neil could pick up on things.

Andrew shrugged as he motioned for Neil to sit next to him on the couch. “Movie?”

“Yeah.” Neil’s grin strengthened as he hurried to sit next to Andrew; he was dressed in Andrew’s pro-team jersey and grey pajama bottoms.

For once, Andrew didn’t say anything if Neil leaned against his left side while they ate their tacos and watched some stupid sci-fi (to him at least) movie about a spaceship hurtling toward the sun. He didn’t think that Neil paid much attention to it, either, focusing more on the meal and Sir (who was tucked against Neil’s side and adoring all the pets) and Andrew’s biting comments about the plot.

It… it almost made up for how the whole day had gone sideways. _Almost_. It was Neil obviously being comfortable and happy that he was next to Andrew, which was what mattered, right? The idiot could be back in Boston instead of flying across the country to spend a weekend with Andrew. He had teammates who would gladly spend time with him, had Matt Boyd and Kevin and other Foxes who would welcome him if he came to visit.

He spent the time with Andrew, instead.

When the movie finally came to an end, Neil lifted his head from Andrew’s shoulder and sighed. “Ah, okay. You definitely pick the next one.” He gave a low moan as he stretched out his back. “Bed?”

Andrew took in Neil’s hooded eyes (from the lack of sleep), the looseness in his lean frame (which only happened when he was truly relaxed), the way he still rested against Andrew’s left side (so trusting) and felt something clench inside of his chest. “Okay,” he said as he reached into the right pocket of his jeans. “Here.”

He threw the box at Neil even as he stood up and walked away, and was almost at the bedroom when Neil’s voice rang out.

“ _Drew_? Drew, what is this?”

“Are you blind?” Andrew scoffed as he pulled his black sweater over his head; when he looked up, it was to find a solemn Neil standing in the doorway of their bedroom with the ring box held open in his left hand.

“It looks… it looks like an engagement ring,” Neil stated in a quiet voice, his expression oddly hopeful. “Or… is it just a ring? Am I wrong?”

For a moment, something inside of Andrew, something which made him want to keep smoking, to keep insulting Katelyn and… something which always urged him on to ruin things because how could _anything_ good happen to him? How could he and Aaron get along? Could Neil really love him? Could he have a real life where he supported himself and-

_No_.

He wasn’t _that_ child anymore, wasn’t Andrew Doe, wasn’t helpless and powerless and could only plead with people who ignored him and abused him and treated him as if he was _nothing_.

He was Andrew Joseph Minyard, had fought and clawed his way into a life where he was more than _nothing_ , and that included an idiot with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, a liar and a rabbit who swore to never lie or run from _him_ again.

“It’s an engagement ring,” Andrew admitted with a voice hoarse from everything he couldn’t say. “Yes or no?”

Raw emotions flashed over Neil’s scarred face for a moment: disbelief, hope, fear, exultation. Then an achingly beautiful smile broke out as he stepped forward, as he approached Andrew until they were scant inches apart.

“ _Yes_ ,” Neil breathed out as he held out the ring box. “Yes, a million times over. An infinity, in fact,” he said with a laugh. “It’s always ‘yes’ with you.”

“Don’t give me that,” Andrew said with a rare bit of heat as he accepted the box. “Though one ‘yes’ will do.” Something fluttered hard in his chest as if trying to break through his ribcage at that dramatic acceptance as he pried the ring free and motioned for Neil to hold up his left hand.

Hiccupping slightly, Neil shook his head. “Shouldn’t you have a ring, too?”

“I’m the one asking,” Andrew argued. “You can get me it for when we exchange vows.” Then he thought about Neil’s awful fashion sense and shook his head. “ _I’ll_ get the rings for that, you just show up.”

Neil laughed and draped his arms over Andrew’s shoulders once the ring was in place. “Okay, it’s a deal.” His eyes grew heavy lidded as he shuffled a little closer. “So… we’re engaged now? Are we going to celebrate?”

Part of Andrew wanted to say ‘yes’ now that he had his answer, that his fears (he didn’t really want to acknowledge that part) were put to rest. But Neil was tired and it had been a long day so…. “Go to bed, Josten.” When his boyfriend’s smile slipped, Andrew tugged Neil a little closer. “We’re not half-assing this, you idiot.” That said, he didn’t object to a kiss that had nothing ‘half-ass’ about it, that lasted a couple of minutes and basically made up for all of day’s aggravations (that and Neil’s ‘yes’).

Once they broke apart, Neil’s smile returned even brighter than before. “Okay, tomorrow we’re gonna do everything right,” he agreed. “Fancy meals, uhm… better movies, and yes, nice and romantic.” He gave a slight laugh after that. “Or what passes for us.”

Exactly, what passed for _them_ – and that included no exhausted boyfriends. “So get your ass in bed, Josten,” Andrew ordered as he gave a slight smack to Neil’s pert ass.

“You so think you’re going to be the one in charge, don’t you?” Neil teased, only for his blue eyes to grow wide when Andrew gave him a blank stare in return for that nonsense statement. “Okay, this is going to be interesting,” he chuckled as he backpedaled toward the bed. “I’m calling it now, no ‘obey’ lines in the vows.”

“As if I need them,” Andrew scoffed as he headed toward the bathroom.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun,” Neil called out, his voice bright with humor.

Andrew had to agree.

_Dammit_.

*******

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously Andrew and Neil (especially Neil, you know him and his mouth) are joking about the whole 'obey'/being in charge thing at the end.


End file.
